Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

Prologue

Elena

Thirteen Years Ago

“If you’re not ready in five minutes then you don’t get a story. You may be twelve years old now, but your bedtime is still at eight.” My dad’s voice booms through the halls of our second-story house.

I rush toward my bathroom. I’m a girl on a mission, hurrying through my bedtime routine since my homework took extra long today. After brushing my teeth, I rapidly pull my wavy hair into a braid and swap out my contacts for glasses.

I make it to my bed with thirty seconds to spare, jumping onto the soft mattress with a loud thud. Papi’s footsteps echo through the hall as he pops his head in to check on me. I shoot him a large grin as I cross my legs and clasp my hands.

He opens the door wider, his brown eyes staring me down. “Should I check if you flossed?”

I shake my head from side to side while fighting a giggle.

“The payment for your next dentist visit should come out of your piggy bank.”

“I promise to do it tomorrow. I’m dying to read with you, and homework took forever. Why can’t I go to school with all my friends? They’re done with their work in an hour.”

Ever since my dad became an ambassador for Mexico a few years ago, our lives have changed. I was enrolled in a private school, we moved to a better neighborhood, and now we have money to go on a few vacations. Mami stays home while Papi travels to and from the United States, working on important things with the government.

“Because one day you’ll thank me for forcing you to attend an American school. All those hours I spend putting away bad people and fixing Mexico are paying off.”

“But they make me speak English all day,” I whine.

He taps my scrunched nose. “And what a great accent you have now. I’m glad the tuition is worth it. I look forward to the day you’ll walk across the graduation stage at an American university.”

He sits next to me, my bed dipping under his weight as he presses against me. He opens my copy of The Hunger Games to the last chapter we left off on, ready to start our nightly tradition. With his position, comes a lot of responsibilities, including missing our reading nights.

“Are you ready to get started?” My dad flashes me the chapter page.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

“You know the deal.” He brushes aside a loose wave, which escaped my braid.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes into the back of my head. “Yup. You start, I finish. Woo. Let’s get this going.” I swirl my finger in a motion telling him less talking, more reading.

His rough voice picks up right where we left off two weeks ago. I sit against my ruffled pillows, hanging on to every word, excited about Katniss surviving the cornucopia.

He passes me the book halfway through the chapter. My dad corrects me as I read, with my accent becoming heavier as my enthusiasm grows. The chapter flies by and leaves me desperate for more after a cliffhanger.

“One more chapter? Please?” I bat my dark lashes at him. They’re long enough to brush against my glasses, an annoying issue usually prevented with contacts.

He shakes his head at me. “I wish I could, chiquita. Mami wants me to help her with the dishes before bed.”

I cling to his side, pulling out all my stops. “But you’ve been gone forever so you owe me at least ten chapters.”

“Diez? No mames.” He chuckles as he hugs me. “How about tomorrow? I’m willing to bargain with three chapters.”

I pull away and cross my arms against my chest. “Fine. If you must.” I wave him off, sighing as I fall against my pillow dramatically.

“I knew the new school was good for you. Look at you, acting like a proper lady. Your reading has improved a ton this year. I’m very proud of you.” My dad plants a soft kiss on my forehead before he closes my bedroom door.

I turn off my lamp. My eyes shut and my mind drifts, thinking about the book and how the chapter ended. Curiosity about what will happen next eats away at my patience. Unable to fall asleep, I pull out a small flashlight from my nightstand I keep for nights like this.

I grab the

book and enter my closet. If my parents found me reading this late on a school night, they’d give me a whole speech. To save us all, I hide in my usual spot behind my clothes and a couple of cardboard boxes. The flashlight casts away shadows as I open the book to the next chapter.

My finger guides me, holding my place as I practice reading. Katniss runs away from others while avoiding getting killed. She’s brave and cool.

A scream sounds from somewhere downstairs. The hairs on my arms raise from how scary it sounds. My dad’s shouting startles me, and my shaky fingers release the hardcover. It falls to the floor beside my feet with a heavy thud.

I hold my breath as I try to make sense of what I heard. Glass shattering in the distance and my mother’s faraway pleading makes me panic. My heart beats faster in my chest as my father switches from English to Spanish, begging for mercy. Strange voices shout back before something else smashes.

Papi warned me about things like this. He taught me to stay in my room and wait for one of them to come get me.

Another scream from my mother takes my breath away. I stay stuck to the carpet, my fingers fumbling to grab the flashlight.

My dad shouts, his begging carrying through my closed bedroom door. I struggle to control my body’s shaking.

The loudest popping sound echoes through my house like someone set off a firework downstairs. My dad stops shouting as my mom lets out a pained shriek.

My fingers tremble as I shut off my flashlight. The clicking noise sounds too loud, breaking the silence as darkness hides me. More pops happen, cutting off my mom’s cries, sending a chill up my back.

One. Two. Three.

My eyes water as I struggle to breathe, the whooshing sound of my heart messing up my hearing. Deep down, I know something is wrong, with my parents not crying anymore. I shake my head as if the movement can erase the worry from my brain. The thought of something bad happening to them is too much for me.

I suck in a sharp breath as my door creaks open.

This is it. They’re going to find me.

The closet door muffles the sound of footsteps. I pull my body into myself in an effort to disappear into the smallest corner of the closet. Boxes and racks of clothes hide me.

I’m no Katniss Everdeen. I’m a faker, hiding away, fear making me curl into a small heap of nothing. My closet doors open, and acid crawls up my throat at the noise. I don’t dare swallow in fear of the stranger hearing me.

Some hangers rattle and my shoes are pushed around. I hold back the urge to breathe as something thuds against the box in front of me. As quickly as the unknown person came, they close the closet door.

“His daughter isn’t here. Maybe she’s with another family member? Or should we check all the rooms?”

I cover my mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping. Tears splash against my fingers, but I stay silent.

“Olvídalo. We got the job done. El jefe will be proud of us and he’ll have to promote us after this. Eduardo has been a pain in his ass for years.”

I fight with everything in me to not get sick and give myself away. Katniss wouldn’t be crying. She would have marched out of the closet and done something. Anything.

I’m a weak, pathetic coward who barely catches my breath as I fight back the need to throw up.

A door slams somewhere downstairs.